


Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

by angededesespoir



Series: Tumblr Prompt Memes [9]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, Pnigophobia, attempted suicide, internalized ableism, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: Prompt: “For how long? How long were you bottling this up?“He’s lost count of how many times he’s held this very gun in his hand, thoughts- tempting- flickering through his head. He always put it away in the end.  But not this time.





	Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt: “For how long? How long were you bottling this up?“ from the[Hurt Meme](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/158452087040/hurt-meme)._
> 
> _I started writing this in May along w/ like 6 other things & I couldn’t motivate myself to finish any of them. But tonight my mood dropped significantly & I needed to vent, so I picked this up again and finally finished it. I’m....incredibly drained._
> 
> _This is heavy, so, uh, please be careful if you choose to read it._
> 
> _(Also on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/162779285005/dont-take-my-sunshine-away).)_

He’s lost count of how many times he’s held this very gun in his hand, thoughts- tempting- flickering through his head. He always put it away in the end. Shoved and buried the urge under a long to-do list and the knowledge that somehow, someway, he could still do right in the world, could still work to fix his and others mistakes.

But not this time. He’s messed up too badly. And it’s getting harder by the day to mask how quickly he’s unraveling.

It took him two weeks, between media harassment and paperwork and higher ups shouting down at him, to make the preparations. The papers with encrypted and complex instructions are set in a neat pile, resting on his pillow. Only Ana and Gabe have access to this room. When he doesn’t show up for work tomorrow, one of them [most likely Ana, since he hasn’t spoken with Gabe since their last argument days ago] will find it and everything will be taken care of. Everything will be fine, again.

He has to keep telling himself that, despite the worry, the fear, the mounting evidence to the contrary.

It had taken months of contemplation, of working himself up to it, trying to get in the right headspace. And now he’s here, cradling the same gun that had ironically saved him several times before.

He meant to get it done hours ago, meant to treat it as just another duty on a list of many. Instead, the metal is heavy in his hand, his eyes periodically flickering over to the picture on he and his husband’s bedside table. He wavers, looking at the image of them both from younger, almost easier days. The smile framed is now foreign.

He is not the same man.

Gabe would be better off without him, he tries to reason.

He forces himself to look away, squeezes his eyes shut as he swallows down the rising doubt for the millionth time, and lifts up the gun.

He tells himself to get it over with quickly. Instead it’s a slow torture (one he’s sure he deserves). The muzzle presses up to his head, finger curving over the trigger, as he struggles to remember to breath, tears burning in his eyes.

He can’t help but imagine them- his love, his close friends, his family. How they’ll react to the news.

He doesn’t want to think about it. He feels ill, losing confidence by the the second.

He takes a shuddering breath, pressing the metal firmer against his head. He can’t back down now. They deserved better.

His finger applies slight pressure even as his hand begins to tremble.

“Jack.”

For a second he thinks it’s all in his head, just another anxiety-produced figment of a dream.

He dares to turn his head, dread rising as his eyes land on his husband, very much real and standing a few feet away. “G-Gabe.” Of all the nights for him to return to their room….. Part of him screams at himself to pull the trigger while he still has the chance.

But with the fear and worry in Gabe’s eyes, in the cautious movement of his body, and the way he’s saying his name….. he can feel the last bits of his resolve slipping.

His hand shakes as he slowly lowers the gun to the bed, eyes fixed on the warm metal.

_Figures. One more thing to add to the list of failures._

He can hear the urgent pad of boots against the floor, feels Gabe tug the gun from his hand. He does not protest or try to stop him. He listens to the click of the cartridge being removed, watches as Gabe performs a safety check, then sets the gun on top of the dresser.

And then his husband is before him, again, weight dipping the bed, Gabe’s hands cupping his jaw as he tries to avoid looking into Gabe’s eyes.

“For how long?“ There’s a shakiness to the voice, one that he’s unaccustomed to. It unnerves him. He tries to shift his head down, but the hands keep him firmly in place. "How long were you bottling this up?“

He doesn’t answer. The less he knows the better. He doesn’t want Gabe to blame himself. It’s not his fault.

"Jack, please. Answer me. What happened? I knew something felt off lately, but I didn’t think it was this bad. Talk to me.”

He tries to swallow, but his mouth feels painfully dry. He wants to lie, wants to brush it away like it’s nothing, make Gabe not worry.

He barely manages an, “I’m fine,”- his voice hushed, throat tight.

The look on Gabe’s face makes him feel sick with guilt. Even if he could speak more, he knows there’s probably nothing he can say that either of them would believe. The truth of the matter, one he still tries to deny, is that he is far from fine, hasn’t known ‘fine’ in a long time.

“Jack…” There’s a pleading in the way the man looks at him.

He swallows against the lump in his throat. He’s acutely aware of how much his hands are shaking, how much his nerves are tingling. The entire world seems suddenly too much, surrounding him, yet so far away- hazy, yet hyper-detailed. He half wants to push Gabe away, suddenly too sensitive for the contact.

“I’m- i don’t- I can’t-” he let’s out a gasp, the way his throat and chest were constricting was unbearable. He shudders.

The hands drop, and if he were calmer, he’d be relieved.

“Hey, hey,” the tone shifts, gentler. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to tell me right this instant. Breath, Jackie. Come on- inhale for 4. Come on, baby, that’s it. Hold. A little longer next time. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Gabe talks to him, tries to center Jack’s attention so he isn’t focusing on the million and one sensations his body is screaming at him. And if it were anyone else doing this, he might be upset or more anxious. But this is Gabe, _his_ Gabe, who had seen him at his lowest points, who he trusted enough to let  him witness such a vulnerable display even if it wasn’t ideal.

Gabriel counts and encourages, staying close, but giving him space, until Jack’s breathing is- for the most part- back under control and the world isn’t quite so hazy, disconnected and overwhelming. It takes several minutes, and by the end, he’s still fighting the tears in eyes, his breath hitching every now and then, as his senses still assault and overwhelm him.

 _'Pathetic,'_ he thinks. What kind of leader is he when he breaks so easily and needs someone to keep him together?

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

He hesitates, his nerves still alight, but he can sense the need in the soft, cautious tone. He nods stiffly, still averting his eyes.

There are arms wrapping around him- firm, but not too tight-, hands rubbing his back.  It’s supposed to be soothing, but it just makes him feel guiltier.

He should never have put him through this.

He lets him continue, knowing that Gabe needs this, needs the contact. It’s silent for several minutes. Just the sound of hands against fabric and Jack trying to breathe through his clogged nose.

“Please,” Gabe says after awhile. “Please talk to me if you can. What’s going on, Jackie?”

He closes his eyes and rests his head against Gabe’s shoulder. He debates for a second whether he should lie, conceal it, but he decides that he owes it to his husband to tell him the truth.

“Everything,” he begins, swallowing before he forces himself to continue, “Everything’s falling apart. It’s all my fault and I can’t stop it or fix it. I try, but I… I keep making it worse.”

Gabe frowns, hands still. “And this was your solution? This isn’t the Jack I know.”

He tenses, and fights off two urges- one to hide, the other to defend. He reminds himself that Gabriel has every right to be upset and confused. Hell, he doesn’t even know how he allowed himself to get to this point.

“It’s too much, Gabe,” he replies. “You could handle this better. You would’ve handled this better.”

He feels Gabriel moving back, his hand pushing gently against one Jack’s shoulders, drawing them slightly apart and causing Jack to look up.

Gabriel looks him in the eyes and Jack feels his heart race.

“You act like you did a terrible job. But from my viewpoint you’ve only done what needs to be done. Your methods might not be the same as mine, but hell, you’ve taken us so far, through so much shit. Give yourself more credit.”

Gabe cups his cheek, again, thumb brushing across the skin.

“You’re doing the best you can,” Gabe continues. “You can’t win every battle.”

Jack’s eyes flick down. “Yeah, but I’ve been losing an awful lot lately.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Do you hear what they’ve been saying? They-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gabe says firmly.

“But-”

“It doesn’t matter what they say. They don’t know shit about you and I’m not about to let them take down my best friend, the strongest man I know.”

Jack gives a strained smile.

“I’m pretty sure Rein’s stronger,” he tries to joke.

There’s a light punch to his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Gabe’s small smile is short-lived. He looks at Jack and presses a kiss to his forehead, before stroking his cheek, again.

“I’m proud of you, for what you’ve accomplished and for opening up to me. I love you so much, but dammit, Jackie, you scared me. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve come too close too many times.” He pauses, then adds, softly, “We both have.”

Jack bows his head. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-” he swallows, throat tight, again. “I never meant-”

“Shhhh. I know. I know.”

Gabe pulls him close and he surrenders to the comfort of the embrace.

“Listen,” Gabe says after awhile, “I can understand why you might not want to go to Angela with this, especially now, with all these leaks surfacing. But we can’t just sweep this under the rug, okay? I know our communication has been less than ideal lately. That’s on both of us. But we at least need to try to work it out, be more open.  And we need to work on taking care of your health.”

“You really think it’ll be that easy?” Jack asks.

“No, but it’s worth it. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. Anything for Gabriel would always be worth it.

“Good. Because I don’t want to lose you.”

“And I don’t want to lose you.” He shifts slightly, the weight of the situation still uncomfortably heavy. “But I…I don’t know how to fix this.” _'How to fix me,’_ he thinks.

“We’ll figure it out together. We’re on the same side, remember?” Gabe squeezes him tighter. “We can get through anything. You can get through anything. It will just take time and hope. But I believe in us. I believe in you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “You know I’d do anything for you, right? Anything, if I could.”

“I know. But don’t forget about yourself, too. You’re always too focused on other people.  I don’t ask for a lot, Jackie, just- try to take care of yourself, and feel free to lean on me. We both have a lot to work on and we can’t do it alone.”

“I know, Gabe. I know. I’ll try. I love you.”

Another apology hangs on his tongue. He bites it back.

Actions speak louder than words. Somehow, someway, he’ll try to make it up to Gabriel. But it won’t erase the pain he’s caused.

The guilt- a lifetime’s added up- weighs heavily on him.

The returned, “I love you,” and the peck to the forehead are barely felt, though a part of him is thankful.

He might think himself undeserving of it, but at least he still has this much.

–

Neither of them sleep that night. Gabriel holds him close, keeping vigilant watch, and Jack loses himself to thoughts, worries.

He doesn’t know how he’ll make it through today or tomorrow or the next. He only knows that he has to.

He still has something to live for.

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> 
> 
> ~~A miracle- I actually wrote something over 1,000 words. I kept getting stuck towards the end, but I hope it turned out okay.~~
> 
>   
>  _Hey, I just want y'all to know that you ever need to talk, I’m willing to lend a listening ear. I might not know what to say or how to help, but I’ll try to be there when I’m able. (Though I do, of course, encourage you to seek out professional help if you need it & are able.) I just want y'all to know that I care about you and I hope that whatever you’re dealing with, you get through it & find some amount of healing with time. Hang in there, my friends. <3_


End file.
